OK, I couldn’t resist

September 11th, 2016, 8:34 PM by Goddess

I didn’t want to write about 9/11. But as I binge-watch brand-new specials on the History Channel, just like I was glued to the news 15 years ago, it occurs to me how much work has changed. 

Like I said in my last post, 9/11 is like our BC/AD line. 

For me, a near-immediate move to D.C. made sense. I drove past the blackened wing of the Pentagon until they rebuilt it. The new facade was a starkly different shade than the rest of the building.

Over time, it got weathered and the average commuter would never see the difference. But we knew where the wreckage was. 

You don’t drive up 395 and not have it haunt your subconscious. Especially when the world is focused on NYC. 

Then, I worked with people who selflessly booked trips to NYC to offer therapy to the first responders. 

Now, I work with people who worked in the Twin Towers, on the NYSE, had buddies who died because they worked at Cantor Fitzgerald and other financials. I see the footage now and I scan for familiar faces. Because they were there. 

Work changed post-9/11. Dress codes loosened. If there’s a fireball flying at you, sneakers and jeans should appal no one. Working from home beats not being able to get to work at all. 

I know people who couldn’t be on time if they tried. I was always in early and out late. But the early birds at the Pentagon and the Towers were fucked. Wish we could know the ratio of bosses to workers who showed up on time. 

My friend Shan and I, our conversations are well-documented on this 15-year-old blog. 

We ached for the poor saps who were unhappy but dragged themselves in each day. Who had dreams they weren’t chasing that day. Who didn’t get to chase them eventually. 

We ached for those who died doing what they loved. That their passion and talent only took them to their deathbed. But we respected the hell out of them. 

Basically we just wanted to do more than tolerate life. To have passion and joy and respect and love. We wanted to open our own business. I’m pretty sure I still have our handwritten plans. 

We haven’t done it yet. We still talk but not as much. We still have dreams. But they feel so much bigger than they did back then. 

I’m thinking of her today. Not going to call. But happy that 9/11 caused us both to job-switch and end up in the same company on the same day. 

That’s how I prefer to remember this day. Even if my posts of years past say otherwise. 🙂

I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell

September 6th, 2016, 1:15 PM by Goddess

Coming back to work after five working days (10 full days, thank you Labor Day) away is like letting a mental patient back into society.

Sure, I was up and dressed and at my perch on time. I had my to-do list ready with seven things but with certain plans to knock out three of them.

And then, “oh hey we’re launching a project tomorrow” was said to someone else. And that matters to me. (So glad I heard it.) That’s because I have a couple parts in it that I haven’t done because I didn’t know when it was launching. And my part in it is pretty timely.

While it was no big deal, and I banged the bulk of it out by 1 p.m., I feel … fragile. Like, whoa. Needed just a little warning there. Don’t disturb the crazy person yet.

(Now to do those other three big things …)

I mean, I’m glad no one asked me about it last week. Facebook Memories reminds me quite clearly that I was working during several holidays past. But it’s very weird how completely off it threw me.

And I felt my quelled anxiety bubble to the surface again. Which is weird because this is no big deal and I could do this in my sleep. Truly.

But this was a big day. Of the last 10 days, I wore makeup once. Fixed my hair exactly zero times. Wore nothing but shorts and halters and Coppertone dry oil with SPF 12. Today? Makeup, hair, outfit, and brain usage. No sliding into it!

Actually I’m pretty lucky. It’s a more creative environment. No need for suits and “stupid shoes” (my name for things that pinch and make you bleed). If you want to get up and walk around, you get up and walk around. Hungry? Undercaffeinated? Fix it at your earliest convenience. Etc.

It made me think of quite a few high achievers I knew who went off-course, shall we say. I never quite knew how to address them after that. Didn’t want to be the reason they got knocked off the wagon or regressed.

So I took a little walk. Couldn’t be a long one, but better than nothing. Grabbed my worry stone and started rubbing. Took this little brain break to bang out this incoherence. And now, back to it for as long as my body can handle.

Interesting how my brain is just fine. Alive, alert, ready and even hungry. But my body? In near-rebellion mode. And I have no idea how to get them back into sync …

Back to life, back to reality

September 5th, 2016, 10:00 PM by Goddess

Hello, back-to-school anxiety. Been 10 days since we’ve been acquainted. 

Saw this online somewhere. Did screen grabs rather than getting the hyperlink. 

Sounds about right …


‘Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever’

August 3rd, 2016, 11:09 AM by Goddess

Dearest S.,

I just saw that Gandhi quote and boy, guess who came to mind?

Our old friend called me last night. A few did, actually. But you know who I mean. She was lucky enough to see you just a week ago.

She is helping me to piece together the details of your last moments here. It still doesn’t make any sense to us. But, you know. I’d rather have envisioned you having a “burger garden” at the Brass Ring or a plate of pasta at Maggiano’s or TWO PLATTERS OF BRIE AND FRUIT (omg we really ate that in one sitting!) at DaDa.

Anyway. Everyone here is evaluating/reevaluating everything right now. Seems everyone is taking days off this week and month. And yet here I am with tears in my eyes, working through the pain.

It both hurts and comforts me that it’s probably the most-appropriate way to honor you.

And while I could bash this earth’s head in if it ever took human form for taking you (and taking you the way it did), it’s bringing the old gang back together. In a surreal, kind of fucked-up way. But, you know. Does anything ever happen in a way that’s NOT messy and ridiculous?

We’d laugh about it if you were here. You probably are pondering the irony wherever you are. Which, I imagine, is running your crepe shop on the Mediterranean and teaching Greek and French to grateful tourists. In the same loving way you taught our friend’s son to read.

You still amaze me, the more I learn about you.

I suspect that trend will only continue.

Love you,

The no-good, very-bad day saved by the DNC

July 28th, 2016, 8:26 AM by Goddess

Someone asked if I were at the DNC this week. I LOL’d. Yes I had the opportunity. And it’s in Philly. I love Philly. HYOOGE fan of Philly. Also, #imwithher.

But, life.

I might as well tell the story of Tuesday or whatever day it was that was not very fun this week. In very edited glory.

For context, let’s say I am a trained surgeon. Trained myself over a decade ago. Particularly skilled in patching up battle wounds and being calm during mass trauma.

Let’s say that I spent the last five years filing paperwork for those surgeons. Occasionally jumping in to do some stitches when I can’t find anyone. Occasionally being asked why I use blue ink instead of black in that paperwork.

Then let’s say the ambulance bay is suddenly full and the surgeon is on one of the beds and the best I can do is dial a friend for a lifeline.

So yeah, lunch? Not so much.

Also, I had plans to actually attend a DNC viewing party — I got invited to three of them in Delray, Boca and Braddock Beaches — but yeah. Not so much.

Somewhere around 7 p.m., I decide hey let’s go to Popeye’s. I have consumed no calories today. LIVE IT UP. SPICY CHICKEN AND RED BEANS FOR EVERYONE, BIATCH.

I get two large teas — unsweet for me, and sweet for mom — and go home for my own viewing party.

Note that I never buy myself a drink. Ever. I can only carry so much, and I will ALWAYS pick mom over me.

Just as I get to my front door, the drink carrier caves in. With one hand free, I can only save one drink. I pick Mom’s.

And thank God, really, because who wants a GALLON OF SUGAR outside their front door?

I think there were more no good, very bad things throughout the day. But those are the only ones I will type out loud.

Now I’m left with Jesus I wasn’t ready to be a surgeon again. I’d like to be but A LITTLE WARNING would have helped. And now I am living in utter terror of the next trauma to walk through the door.

Thank God for Cory Booker, Michelle Obama, Joe Biden and Barack Obama for saving that night and last night. Because of them, I have pride in my country and in my work and will try again today with a renewed swell of purpose in my heart.

I tell you, election season is my Olympics. At least one I can participate in. And I hope against hope that we will go for — and GET — the gold in November … and shatter that glass ceiling once and for all.